Ripper's Dismay
by deathsonic
Summary: A psycho's cry for help, his life and his curse, take a look now into the world of a once proud wolf, a wolf named now known as Ripper The Phychopath.


The time of day is thirty minutes before midnight, the location, a dark forest just east of station square's train hub, the person, a psychopath, this is the inner thoughts of Ripper the Psychopath.

I walked these darkened trees, I found little to think about "beauty" with these sins I've committed.

* * *

Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness

I need to calculate

What creates my own madness

And I'm addicted to your punishment

And you're the master

And I am waiting for disaster

* * *

These sins, atrocities they are, haunting my mind like a plaque just waiting to infect another victim with its insanity. Its cold fingers tightening around your mind, like death's cold embrace.

* * *

I feel irrational, so confrontational

To tell the truth again

I'm getting away with murder

* * *

The blood never truly goes away; more like it just waits, until you get your hands dirty again, like a nightmare waiting to spring on a unsuspecting dreamer.

* * *

And is it impossible to never tell the truth?

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder

(Getting away, getting away, getting away)

* * *

the countless innocents you kill, thinking that they are your enemy, seeing the blood splatter on the walls, it fills you with joy, so much that you do it again, and again, and again until it lets go of your mind, and only then do you see the true horror you've committed.

* * *

I drink my drink and I don't even want to

I think my thoughts when I don't even need to

I never look back 'cause I don't even want to

And I don't need to

Because I'm getting away with murder

* * *

You drink your fill of the carnage but it gets to you eventually, but by then you're hated, disgusted, and frowned upon by society, so much so that you can't explain before they call the guards to put you down. So you run, hoping you can get away and one day quell the madness within your mind, a dream that is all but obtainable.

* * *

I feel irrational, so confrontational

To tell the truth

I am getting away with murder

And is it impossible to never tell the truth?

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder

* * *

I stopped to lean against a tree and look at the night's sky, the moon was out tonight and it never looked lovelier. You wish you could go back to the way things were but once you snap there is no turning back, you become something else, something different, it eats away at your mind, taking inch by inch of your sanity, tell you can no longer bare it and you give into its desires for flesh.

* * *

(Getting away, getting away, getting away)

(Getting away, getting away, getting away)

(Getting away, getting away, getting away with murder)

* * *

You wish against all hope you can find someone to understand your blight, but your hope is wasted as the world slowly turns against you, just like it already has turned its back on me, a once proud and respected scientist. But that is the past, and this is the present, a meaningless exsestiance that has little meaning, a life that can only be lived with the suffering of others.

* * *

Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness

I need to calculate

What creates my own madness

And I'm addicted to your punishment

And you're the master

And I am craving this disaster

* * *

I turn to see two squirrels sitting on a branch together with their tails intertwined. You wish you had time for other things, to find that special someone, but the only comfort you ever feel is its ever so cold hands, taking hold of yours and playfully pulling you back into the insanity.

* * *

I feel irrational, so confrontational

To tell the truth

I am getting away with murder

And is it impossible to never tell the truth?

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder

(Getting away, getting away, getting away)

* * *

I turn back to look at the sky to see the stars in full shine and it strangely fills me with a smile as I look up at them. To be free and too roam again, a dream you pray one day finally comes into exsestiance, a dream you hold on with what little sanity you have left, something you keep in your heart. I could feel the mark on my arm pulsating again and on instinct I take hold of my hand, I can feel it, calling out to me, telling me to come back and enjoy the gore and blood.

* * *

I feel irrational, so confrontational

To tell the truth

I am getting away with murder

* * *

I admit, the first time I did it I felt, how do I explain this, filling? No, that's the insanity talking, I am not like that, at least, I didn't used to be. I grit my teeth feeling myself losing my grip on my mind, feeling that ever so familiar cold touch upon my head. Well, I suppose a man can dream, can't he?

* * *

I am getting away with murder

And is it impossible to never tell the truth?

* * *

I could feel myself change, losing that precious last seconds of sight and familerness. maybe, one day I can become myself again, maybe one day this insanity will finally end, I can only pray that day comes before I walk to far down this blood stained path of death, the blood on my hands will never truly wash away, only hide until I commit murder again, and for me, that time has come far too soon. But the reality is I'm getting away with murder, and there is nothing I can do to change that.

* * *

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder

* * *

I could feel the last of my mind slip away as I disappeared into the fog of the night, to once again shed the blood of the innocent and carve their flesh.


End file.
